


Accidental Attachment

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Clarke sends Anya a nude and things go downhill from there, F/F, rating went up because I can't tell what's mature and explicit, slight raven/lexa later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friday nights are usually hard to remember, but this Friday night is one Clarke will never forget. </p>
<p>College Professor Anya & Student Clarke</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was only meant to be three lines from a request on tumblr, but I am trash and love this pairing.

*0*0*

Clarke couldn’t remember a lot of her friday nights during college. She can remember the getting ready, the pre-drinks, and the arrival at the parties, but as the night went on, she had no clue. Sometimes Raven and Octavia helped, or Facebook and Instagram would provide background photos of Clarke making her way around various locations. But typically, the fog of ‘what did I do last friday night’ hung in the air.

One particular Friday,however, was not going to be one of those nights lost in the fog. It was crystal clear, stuck in the mind, never to be forgotten.

*0*0*

“Tell me we are going out to get fucked up tonight,” Raven moaned, slouching across the couch, and looking to her roommates to answer her.

Octavia was at the end of the couch, sitting with Raven’s legs on her lap, and instead of answer, she looked to Clarke.

“Murphy’s hosting a party,” she answered, having seen the invite on Facebook.

“Murphy?” Raven whined, lips curling in distaste, but quickly got a gentle swat to her leg.

“He’s got good booze, plenty of space, and it’s not at that crappy apartment he had last year. He’s got this massive new place up in the Jaha quarter,” O explained, actually quite keen on going.

“I know, but do we have to?” Raven’s whines were ignored by the other two, and Raven rolled her eyes in response. “Fine, we’ll go, and if it sucks, I’m blaming you two.”

“Nothing new there,” Clarke said, smiling, as she rolled off the couch and wandered into the bathroom.

If they were going out, she needed to clean herself up and not look like she’d spent the day binging on netflix, which she had. But it had been a productive day, she had watched three movies that she’d been saving up, and that was an impression feat when battling Raven and Octavia for the space in the livingroom.

Twenty minutes later, Clarke felt squeaky clean and left the shower. Wrapping a towel around her body, and pushing her hair away from her face, she padded down the hall to find her roommates.

“Shower is free,” Clarke said, popping her head into Octavia’s room first. She was knelt over her desk, typing away, and chewing at her bottom lip. “Problems?”

“No, no,” Octavia said, smiling over her shoulder. “I just need to submit this for Dr. Trikru. Did you do yours? What did you put?”

“What?” Alarm bells were ringing for Clarke, and she froze.

“For that self-assessment she wanted? What did you say?” Octavia asked, waving her hand at the laptop.

“I haven’t said anything, I haven’t even done that yet.” She had completely forgotten. With all her other course work, she wasn’t really concerned about a silly self-assessment for a class she didn’t even enjoy.

“Clarke,” Octavia laughed, shaking her head, and then looking at the clock on her bedside table. “You have until eight o’clock to send it to her.”

“Tonight?! That’s like fifteen minutes from now!” What the hell? And what was up Dr. Trikru’s ass for setting Friday night as a deadline?

“Yeah!” Octavia replied, laughing some more, as she spun back around to finish her own.

“Fucking hell,” Clarke moaned, moving as fast as she could into her room, not bothering about her dripping hair or towel falling or Raven whistling as she flew past.

She was on a deadline, and now she only had twelve minutes to complete.

Recollection of what self-assessment Octavia was referring to was slowly coming back as Clarke’s laptop loaded up her email.

Dr. Trikru had been wearing a delectable grey, high waisted pencil skirt, and the simple white shirt she’d matched it with made her look like something out of a fantasy. Behind her, may have been details on said self-assessment, about rating their own learning style and their best qualities.

It, apparently, allowed Dr. Trikru to tailor certain aspects of her course to the students, but for as long as Clarke had been in her class, Dr. Trikru changed for no one.

The first day of Dr. Trikru’s class had been a lesson learnt for Clarke. Typically, her professors and tutors loved her. They adored her. She was smart and polite and kind, and the fact her mother was on the board had nothing to do with it.

So for Dr. Trikru to call her out with a stoic glare, and embarrass her like that, things were not off to a good start.

“If you’re late, you’re not welcome,” her voice had called, commanding the room as Clarke walked down the steps to get into a seat.

“I’m sorry, I got stuck in traffic-” she tried, hoping to charm her with a smile. She was met with a blank face in return.

“I don’t care. Get out. You are disrupting my class.” What?

“But I’m here now,” Clarke laughed, hoping this was a joke.

“Well done,” her tone was dry and unforgiving. “You should have been here three minutes ago. Now leave.” Dr. Trikru turned on her heel and continued speaking to the rest of the room again, leaving Clarke standing still, shocked.

Octavia was looking at her with a similar expression, shock and wonder, and then nodded at the empty seat next to her, just saying to sit down and work. When she made a step to do that, Dr. Trikru dropped the text book onto her desk with a bang and crossed her arms over her chest.

“The door is that way,” she nodded, and majority of the students turned to see if what Clarke’s decision was going to be.

Given that she now had the whole room’s attention, Clarke bowed under the pressure and turned and left. She’d get the notes from Octavia later, and in the meantime, there was a drink calling her name back at their apartment.

Since that day, Clarke hadn’t warmed to Dr. Anya Trikru, and Dr. Trikru hadn’t warmed to Clarke. They never would, and nothing would change that.

So to say she was unimpressed with having to fill out a stupid self-assessment form for someone who doesn’t care about her was an understatement.

She opened her email and searched for the one she needed, before bypassing all of Dr. Trikru had said in it, and opening the attachment.

How would you describe your learning style?

How would you describe your studying style?

What methods, if any, do you not enjoy when learning?

In a group project, are you a leader, follower or neither?

Please attach a photo of yourself to this self-assessment.

The questions went on and on, and fucking hell, this was going to take forever. Ten minutes. She had ten minutes, and she just knew that if she half-assed this, Dr. Trikru was going to drag her ass over coals for it. So she got to typing, throwing in anything she could think of, and hoping it would do.

When she reached the end, she realised she didn’t know what to do with it. Instead of it being an online form to be filled out, it was a document that needed attached to an email, and what email was she meant to be sending it to, and did Dr. Trikru have to make everything so damn difficult?

Back to the original email, she copied the email address that had been provided, and then created a new email and attached the document. She put her name in the subject line with self-assessment, and then click-oh, wait, holy shit, not yet, she couldn’t let go of that mouse button.

She hadn’t attached a photo.

Realising her mistake, she dragged the mouse away from the send button, and unclicked, praying it hadn’t already sent.

It hadn’t. Thank the lord.

Opening up her photos file, Clarke clicked on her most recent one, and saved it. If she’d had time she would have renamed the photo to something other than the stream of numbers and letters, but she didn’t, so that was going to have to do.

With that, she hit send, and was relieved to see it had gone, moments before the clock clicked to eight.

Hallelujah.

Now she could put on some clothes.

“You get it done in time?” Octavia asked, leaning in the doorway, making sure that Clarke had clothes on again.

“Yes, thank god.”

“Mind if I look it over? I don’t think I answered one of the questions correctly.”

“Go for it.” Clarke waved her arm at the laptop, signalling to go ahead, while she continued to get ready.

Octavia set herself up and started reading, nodding to Clarke talk about what outfit she was going to wear, when she was abruptly cut off-

“Whoa-holy fuck, Clarke, tell me this is a joke?” Octavia choked out.

“What? Did I make a stupid typo?” She had been typing pretty fast, it would be excusable. Well, not by Dr. Trikru, but Clarke could excuse her own mistakes. At least the damn thing was submitted.

“No! Your photo!” Octavia called, sharp, high, and attracting too much attention.

“What’s going on?” Raven asked, popping round the door, wanting to see what the commotion was about, and immediately moved over to the laptop Octavia was sitting, laughing at.

“What? I can’t look cute? She didn’t say it had to be professional,” Clarke replied, waving her hand, only to freeze upon Raven’s cackles.

She was properly cackling, and there were tears, and what was funny? Nothing should have been that funny.

Those alarm bells were ringing again.

“You need to take a look at this,” Octavia said, trying to fight her laughter, as she spun the laptop for Clarke to see.

“If that’s how you hope to pass your classes, sign me up as your professor,” Raven called, excusing herself, holding her ribs as she continued to laugh. She wandered out, with Octavia moving away too, as if to remove herself from the chaos that was about to occur.

Clarke shot them a weird look and looked at the screen. Loaded up was the self-assessment which looked great, and flicking the window over to the picture she’d sent, her blood ran cold.

Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

She was fucked.

That wasn’t the cute selfie she had taken earlier, the one with her hair on point, her eyes majestic, and looking cute as hell. No.

This was the nude she’d taken to flirt with that cute TA she’d met the other week. Her legs were crossed, clearly no underwear, no bra, nipples pert, kissable lips, come fuck me eyes, and while she looked fucking great, this was not what she wanted to send to her professor!

Holy shit.

“Can’t wait to see how you get yourself out of this mess,” Octavia said, standing in the doorway, shaking her head, laughing, while Raven’s cackles could still be heard from across the apartment.

Clarke couldn’t either, for that matter, because how was she going to? She had just send a nude to her teacher, to Dr. Anya Trikru, with her sharp cheek bones, dark eyes, and intimidating presence. It wasn’t like she’d take this as a joke, and it wasn’t like she would forgive her for saying it was an accident.

She really, and truly, was fucked, and as Friday nights went, this was not going to be one she’d ever forget.

*0*0*


	2. Ramifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya checks her emails.

*0*0*

Anya’s friday nights were nights spent in one of the bars located just off campus, drinking beer with Lexa, and going over their weekly workload. Despite it being so close to campus, their reputations allowed them to steer clear of their students, and they were usually left alone. If the food hadn’t been so good and the booze so cheap, they never would have gone there.

Lexa had just finished telling Anya about this girl, when Anya noticed the time. It wasn’t that late, but she had a lot of work to do over the weekend, and it was probably best to go before Lexa started waxing poetically about this mysterious girl.

“Okay, I need to go,” she said, getting up, and beginning to put on her jacket.

“One more?” Lexa asked, lifting her glass, and nodding at the bar, readying to get a final round in.

“Can’t,” Anya replied, shaking her head. “I gave my students a deadline. I want to get started going through their work, see who I can fail.”

“You’re cruel,” Lexa laughed, finishing her drink, too, and standing up.

“I’m strict, there’s a difference.”

Her students most likely thought she was cruel, but that came with the territory. She had a set syllabus she wanted to get through. She had deadlines to meet. She had to get their lazy asses a pass, and to do that, they needed to work hard and earn it.

Plus, Lexa’s nickname was ‘The Commander’ so who was she to talk?

“I’ll walk you,” Lexa murmured, putting on her jacket, and following Anya out the door.

Together, the two of them walked the short distance, heading in the direction of campus, before splitting off. Anya headed three blocks the other way, rooting her keys out of her bag, and heading into her building.

Once inside, Anya dropped her keys on the side table, kicking the door closed behind her, and headed into the kitchen. She might have stopped drinking at the bar, but it wasn’t that late, so she could sneak in another beer.

Getting one from the fridge while her laptop booted up, Anya opened it off her counter top, and then hunted out the files she had in her work bag. Scanning the notes, she took a seat on her couch, and then got to work opening her email.

To her surprise, there were a substantial amount of responses. Perhaps her students did listen, after all.

Looking at the timestamps, she noted a few who had just met the deadline, and even more who had missed it by minutes. Counting those on her list, at least five students hadn’t bothered to do it, and she couldn’t wait until next class so she could drag them over the coals for it.

Anya then started going through each submission. She logged the responses in a spreadsheet, and then put together a list with the matching photos. While Anya tried her best, she didn’t know the name of every student, and she needed to. The fear of calling them out in class, of pulling them up from the bottom of their seats, only worked if she knew their names.

One beer became two, and by the time Anya reached those that had just met the deadline, she was a good bit tipsy, and thank fuck she wasn’t reading and marking essays.

Spotting a name she was familiar with, Anya loaded up the email.

Clarke Griffin.

She was one student Anya could not forget.

Clarke had been late to her class, disruptive, and from then she’d tried to keep her head down. When called upon, she answered, was happy to argue her point, and at times, it felt like she was looking at Anya with hatred or disdain. That was another perk of the job.

Intrigued to see the effort Clarke put in, Anya read through her responses, trying not to smile at a few of the bullshit responses, and then double clicked on the attachment to see what photo Clarke had chosen to use.

No doubt it would be a-

Oh.

Holy.

Shit.

Closing the image as quick as possible, Anya glared at her keyboard.

What the fuck was Clarke Griffin thinking? Was she fucking serious?

Anya could get her ass fired for this.

And Griffin was not that common a name, so Anya didn’t need to be a genius to know Clarke was the daughter of Abigail Griffin, on the university board, who could have Anya out on her ass if she wanted.

Christ.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, and licking her lips, she tried to block it out. Tried to block out the provocative pose, the tempting gaze, the pert breasts, and God, this was the last thing Anya needed.

Groaning, and glancing at the clock, Anya grabbed her cellphone. It was late, but she needed to make the call, regardless of the time.

“You awake?” Anya asked, as soon as it stopped ringing.

“And if I hadn’t been?” Lexa replied, groaning into the phone. “What do you need?” She sounded like she had been asleep. Shame.

“Advice.” That wasn’t a light request, and Lexa sat up, the bedsheets rustling, ready to listen.

“Go on.”

“A student sent me something inappropriate, and I...I think this could effect my career if it comes out.” That was putting it lightly, to say the least.

“Delete it,” Lexa fired out, “and speak to the student. I can be there as a witness.”

“And that should cover my ass?” She needed to know this was not going to fuck her over. Indra was looking to step down as department head, and Anya was ready for the promotion. This...no matter how innocent, this could kill that dead in the water.

“If need be, we can speak to Indra, but I wouldn’t want to get her involved, unless you think it’s that bad.”

Was it that bad? Or was Clarke trying to buy favour? Or worse, was this Clarke’s plan from the start? Did she want Anya to get fired?

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let me know when you need me, and we can talk to the student,” Lexa said, offering her support, which was definitely needed.

“Thanks, Lex.”

“No problem. Now, let me sleep.”

Hanging up, Anya deleted Clarke’s image, and then emptied the recycle bin, hoping to ensure that there was no evidence left. And given the sour mood she was now in, she closed her laptop, and dragged herself to bed.

Sleeping should have come easy, what with beer in her system, but the thrum in the pit of her stomach, and that desire and need was hard to ignore.

Fucking Clarke Griffin.

*0*0*

The next time Anya saw Clarke, she was dressed, and wandering into the lecture hall with Octavia. The two of them frequently worked together on things, and Anya had plans to throw a spanner in the works for that later on in the semester.

For now, however, she had a class to teach, and one student to avoid.

That was relatively easy, until Lexa slipped in ten minutes until the end. Then she was reminded of the conversation that had to take place after, and of the picture that Clarke sent which had caused this mess.

And now Anya was turned on. Fucking perfect.

“Alright, I shall see you all on Thursday,” Anya called, coming to a stop behind her desk, eyeing the students as the began to pack up. “Miss Griffin, a word.”

It wasn’t a question.

Both Clarke and Octavia looked like deers in headlights, and fuck, that meant Octavia knew about the photo situation, too. Christ.

Lexa must have caught that too, because she nodded at Octavia and raised her eyebrows at Anya, as if asking whether she needed to intervene. A subtle shake of her head later, because not yet, and Lexa moved down to join Anya at the front.

Meanwhile, Clarke was still startled, but appeared to have put on a brave face as she walked down the stairs of the lecture hall to stand at the front. Anya nodded at the closest seat, indicating for her to sit down, while Lexa moved to lean on Anya’s desk.

Pulling out Clarke’s self-assessment, she watched as her student swallowed, glancing away, and Anya was glad Clarke understood the severity of the situation.

“Professor Woods is going to be joining us for this discussion, due to the nature of the situation,” Anya began, with Lexa nodding in greeting to Clarke.

Clarke nodded back, sitting up slightly straighter, and listening attentively.

“I think we need to discuss your self-assessment, specifically the photo you sent in-” Anya began, running through the speech she had prepared.

“May I speak freely?” Clarke interrupted, and Lexa side glanced over to Anya, cocking her eyebrow at Clarke’s gall to interrupt. Anya frowned, noting it too, but nodded for Clarke to speak freely.

It wasn’t like she could say no, she needed this conversation to go a certain way, and shutting down Clarke was going to ruin any chance of that.

“I didn’t mean to send you that photo,” Clarke began, rising, so she was at the same level as them. “It was an accident. Simple as that. Please can we not make this a big deal? I’d like to forget all about it.”

“I can’t forget about it,” Anya balked, and was quickly on the receiving end of a ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look from Lexa, who then made a smooth recovery.

“This is quite serious, Clarke. There are strict rules on professor and student relationships, ones that could see yourself suspended pending investigation and Professor Trikru fired.”

“I know, I do, and I’m sorry, but this was an accident,” she stressed, her eyes moving from Lexa to Anya, and then back. “Look, we don’t want my mother finding out about this, so after this conversation, I suggest we forget that it ever happened, or else-”

“Is that a threat?” Lexa asked, her voice low, and Anya stood up straighter, also wondering if Clarke was threatening them.

“No, it’s not.” Clarke shook her head, strong, firm, and shot them both an exasperated look. “The last thing I want is my mother finding out I sent a nude to my professor, so I’m certainly not going to tell her myself.” That was a fair point, and perhaps her student was as foolish as she seemed.

“Then we’re on the same page,” Anya said, not wanting this to spiral out of control. “The photo has been deleted, no longer in my possession, and I recommend that you send a different, more suitable, photo for the self-assessment.”

“I can do that,” Clarke said, nodding.

“Do your friends know?” Lexa asked, pulling the focus, and from the slight wince Clarke made, that was a yes.

“My roommates do, they actually told me what I’d done- but they won’t say anything!” she was quick to add.

Anya nodded at Lexa, knowing that she had no option but to trust Clarke on this matter. She could only hope and pray that yes, her roommates would keep their mouths shut.

“Good, then we’re sorted. Do you have any questions?” Lexa asked, turning to Clarke for one final check.

She didn’t, and shaking her head, she shifted on her feet, while readjusting the strap of her bag.

“I’ll send you that photo this evening,” Clarke said, looking at Anya, and then giving a quick goodbye, she set off up the stairs and out the lecture hall.

“You didn’t tell me she’d sent you a nude,” Lexa growled, shooting Anya a glare, who rolled her eyes in return.

“What else did you think this was about?”

“You didn’t say on the phone,” Lexa shot back. “Please tell me you have actually deleted it?”

“Of course I have, I’m not stupid.”

Gathering her things up, Anya grabbed her bag and coat, and then began walking towards the door, side by side with Lexa.

“Thank you for your help,” Anya said, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “If this goes shit, I’ll leave your name out, though.” Lexa laughed, shaking her head.

“If this goes shit, I don’t think you’ll be able to.” Clarke was Abigail Griffin’s daughter, after all, no details would ever be spared if this all came to light.

Including the photo.

“How provocative are we talking-”

“Lexa,” Anya said, sharp, cutting her off, not even wanting to think back on the image Clarke had sent her.

“That good?” Lexa grinned, before getting a quick jab of the elbow.

“Fuck off.”

And that was the end of that.

*0*0*

After speaking to Clarke, after deleting the image, after carrying on like nothing had happened, things went back to normal. Anya continued her teaching schedule, went on with her nights at the bar with Lexa, listening to her fall more and more in love with this mysterious girl, and fall asleep on her couch marking and drinking beer.

Everything was slowly lining up for her, and if it wasn’t for the lingering gaze of Clarke during every class, one she had to try and ignore, then she could almost forget that anything even happened.

“Professor Trikru?” Looking up from her desk, Anya saw Professor Jaha standing in her doorway. “May I have a moment?”

“Of course.” Waving her hand, Anya welcomed him in, sitting back in her chair.

She had been waiting on news about Indra’s stepping down, had been hearing whispers around the department that a decision was being made any day now, and perhaps this was the conversation she had been eagerly awaiting.

Professor Jaha took a seat, giving her a soft smile, linking his hands together in front of his chest, and Anya waited, wondering, what was next.

“Anya, you’ve been teaching here for many years, and I have heard nothing but praise from your students and from your colleagues.” This definitely seemed to be going in the right direction. “However, recently an allegation came to light of impropriety between yourself and a student, and until these allegations are investigated thoroughly, you will be suspended effective immediately.”

“Excuse me?” What the fuck had just happened?

“There is no other way around this, Anya, my hands are tied. This allegation needs to be investigated, and all evidence needs to be looked at. If this proves to be one big misunderstanding, then you can return to your job, like nothing has happened.”

She could feel that promotion, department head, slipping right out from under her.

The only possible allegation, of misconduct, of impropriety all lead back to Clarke Griffin and that fucking picture.

“What happens next? What happens to my classes?” Jaha looked surprised by the question, but Anya knew there was no point arguing. She’d get her time to debate and explain later on.

“Professor Woods will take over them as much as she can, and we will sort it out in the department. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.” That was utter shit, but Anya fought a groan, and stopped the work she was doing. There was no point continuing it.

“Is there any official paperwork to go with this?” she asked, and Jaha reached into his jacket breast pocket.

He handed over three sheets of paper, folded together, for Anya to read, and that was the end of the conversation. Jaha got up, giving her a final farewell, and left.

Once the office door was closed behind him, Anya sunk back into her chair and fought back a groan. She could feel the emotions bubbling beneath the surface, and she needed to control that, to shut it down.

Getting up, abandoning her work on her desk, Anya tucked her laptop into her bag, took a few personal items from her desk, and grabbed her coat and keys. The walk home was filled with internal brooding, and anger.

Anger at Clarke, anger at Clarke’s friends, anger at herself for being so fucking stupid to think this could all be behind her.

The rest of her evening was spent drinking beer, ignoring Lexa’s calls, and pretending that her whole career hadn’t just been fucked over.

Pretending could only last for so long, and reality was a cruel reminder.

*0*0*

 

 


	3. Snap Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes a few rash decisions.

*0*0*

Clarke and Octavia were both running late to class, and this was one class that neither wanted to be late for. Professor Trikru was known for being harsh, and as Clarke had already been late before, she knew that unless they made it on time, they didn’t even need to go.

Thankfully, the two of them slipped in the door just as the clock struck one, and together, Clarke and Octavia hunkered down into the nearest seats.

They both had anticipated some scathing remark from Professor Trikru to come, but it never did. Nothing happened, class didn’t even begin.

“Where’s Professor Trikru?” Octavia asked, echoing Clarke’s thoughts.

“I have no idea-” Before she could even finish her sentence, the door opened again, and in walked Professor Woods.

“Professor Trikru has had to take a leave of absence; during this time, I will be your new lecturer. Now, if you can-”

Clarke tuned out everything Professor Woods said after that. Her mind was stuck on leave of absence and what that meant exactly. That really could mean anything, a family emergency, a medical emergency, or something not even remotely as serious.

But what if?

She remained in a daze, trying to concentrate, but unable to stop worrying about what might have happened. Thank God, Professor Woods never called on her, or she would really have been up shit Creek without a paddle.

While leaving the lecture hall with Octavia at the end, Clarke knew she was going to need to look at O’s notes, because she hadn’t listened to a word Professor Woods had actually said, and that was going to do nothing for her final grade. She also knew that until she found out why Professor Trikru was absent, it was going to eat away at her.

And it did.

For days.

There was no sign of her favourite, irritatingly mean, and stunning, professor. Instead, Clarke only saw Professor Woods looking more exhausted by the minute. She had taken over all of the extra workload, yet still somehow managed to live up to her fierce reputation.

After two classes with her, Clarke already missed the no nonsense, no hand holding, but impassive approach Professor Trikru had.

And still, she was no closer to finding out what the leave of absence was for.

That just wouldn’t do.

It took a few days, but finally Clarke found time to track down Monty, tucked away in the computer lab. He usually spent his days writing new code, working his way through the backfiles of the universities system, and selling cheat sheets to desperate students.

So Clarke knew, with the right means, she could get him to find out all the details of Professor Trikru’s absence.

“She’s been suspended,” Monty explained, twenty minutes later, hunkered down over the keyboard, using a passcode he should not have access to, and hacking into read the private correspondence between a few members of the board.

Sorry, mom, but Clarke thought it was about time she took matters into her own hands.

“Suspended? What for?” she asked, frowning. A bit of typing later, some scrolling, and then Monty had the answer.

“Impropriety with a student….oh, no, wait, suspected impropriety with a student,” he clarified, as if that made a whole load of difference.

And shit. Shit. Shit.

“Does it say the student’s name?” If it did, Clarke stood to be in a world of trouble.

Monty hummed as he looked further and then shook his head.

“Nope. None mentioned.” Well, that was good right? Maybe it was another student. Maybe she had something on the side with someone else. “Though, that may only be because the allegation has been withdrawn.”

Withdrawn was good. Withdrawn meant Professor Trikru would be back, teaching soon. Withdrawn meant everything was returning to normal.

“When was it withdrawn?”

“Five days ago.” Five days and she still hadn’t returned? Something had to be wrong.

“So why is she still suspended?” Surely it said something in the files.

“The student who made the allegation is not the student that is suspected of engaging in illicit activities with Trikru.” Oh.

“So it’s someone’s friend?” That put the heat back on Clarke. But Octavia and Raven would never say anything. They wouldn’t. She trusted those girls with her life, they'd never betray her like that.

“Oh, this makes more sense,” Monty said, waving his hand at the screen. “The original allegation came from Jaha.”

“Thelonious?” How would he-

“Wells,” Monty replied, turning to look at Clarke. “Wells made an official allegation to his father, who passed it onto another board member.”

Wells?

Did Wells even know about Clarke sending that photo? Did he know- wait - shit. Yes, yes he did.

One off handed comment at lunch, one stupid laugh, and he had been told Clarke had sent a nude to her professor. At the time, Wells had shook his head, grinning, and claiming she was trouble. Clarke had agreed.

Now, now Wells could see how much trouble Clarke really could be, because if he had said anything-

"Any allegation made by him is treated like gospel, regardless of it being withdrawn. They probably don't even care about that, not with blood in the water." Monty definitely had a point. “Do you need anything else?” he then asked, and Clarke stopped picturing the ways to hurt Wells, and shook her head.

“That’s all for now. Again, thank you, Monty, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.” She wouldn’t. She could land them both in even more trouble if she did.

Leaving Monty, Clarke hightailed it across campus and back to her place. Before she cut Wells into little pieces, she wanted to talk to Raven and Octavia. They would be able to provide counsel where it was needed.

After dumping her things in her room, changing out of proper clothes and into sweats, Clarke padded through into the living room, and joined Raven and Octavia on the couch. They were curled up together, watching something on Netflix Clarke didn’t watch, and after a shared look between them, Raven was reaching for the handset to pause it.

“What happened?” Octavia asked, sitting up, and turning to look at Clarke properly.

“I think...I think I might have ruined her career,” she muttered, still in her head, still going over everything that had been said.

“Whose?” Raven asked, frowning.

“Professor Trikru’s.” Clarke was met with looks of understanding and possibly pity? God, she hoped that wasn’t pity.

“What’s happened?”

“Is that why she’s suspended?” Octavia asked, and Raven looked even more lost, her question being ignored.

“Yeah, because of Wells,”

“Wells? What did Wells do?”

“He went to his dad, and now she’s suspended and their going to investigate and what am I going to do? This was an accident! I don’t want Jaha and the board, and my mom!, sitting round looking at my nude! And I can’t believe he would do this, I had the situation under control!”

“Whoa, calm for a minute, Clarke. Let’s take a minute,” Octavia soothed, moving away from Raven to come and join Clarke, wrapping her into a hug, and settling in.

“You need to talk to Wells,” Raven offered, watching Clarke take a deep breath, pushing away the anger that was building.

“What about Trikru? I can’t just leave her hanging out there to die, this is her career.” Raven and Octavia shared another look, and Octavia took the plunge with responding.

“You can’t really do anything about that, Clarke. The damage has already been done.” The reality wasn’t comforting, and curling into her side some more, Clarke nodded.

“I need to do something, anything. I need to fix this.”

She wasn’t sure how she was going to, but she had to fix it. She couldn’t let a stupid mistake like this cost someone their career.

*0*0*

With words of wisdom from Raven and Octavia, Clarke managed to avoid knocking Wells out the first few times she saw him. It was usually when he was crossing the quad or on the way to class. She couldn’t exactly go to her own classes with bruised knuckles now, could she?

However, when she saw Wells alone, sitting out after one of his study groups, reading, she couldn’t help herself from going over.

The anger had built, and it came spilling out in her venomous tone as she marched over.

“What did you do?” That wasn’t how she’d intended on starting, but the words were out before she knew it, and Wells looked up, shocked at what was happening.

“When?” he asked, wondering where this aggressive attitude from Clarke had come from. He was very much lost.

“To Professor Trikru, what did you do?” Clarke repeated, trying to gain some semblance of control again.

“I didn’t do anything, Clarke,” he replied, standing up, realising exactly what this was about, and how had Clarke found out?

“She’s been suspended,” she spat, unimpressed.

“Good, she should be.” Was he serious? What-

“How can you say that?”

“Clarke, she didn’t report or follow procedure when you sent her that photo. She should have reported it. She should have been open about it. The only reason Professor Woods isn’t suspended along with her is because the department needs to stay up and running. Neither of them should have spoken to you alone about it.”

It seemed like Wells knew a hell of a lot more that Clarke initially thought.

“How did you even find out about that conversation?” The only reason he would have mentioned Professor Woods was if he knew about their talk, their agreement, which was now in tatters because the board knew about it.

“I overhead Octavia talking to Raven about it.” Shit.

“Why didn’t you speak to me about any of this? You knew it was an accident, but now they’ve suspended her- this could ruin her career.”

“Clarke, I did what was right,” Wells argued, standing his ground.

“No Wells, you did this to buy favour with your father. Congrats on ruining a great professor’s future.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, and Clarke wanted to bite back, but held off.

“I didn’t do that. You did,” he muttered, and that was all she could take. Scowling, Clarke stepped back, having enough of this conversation, having enough of Wells.

She walked away, leaving him to call after her, still defending his actions, but if he was so insistent on defending himself, then that reflected a guilty conscience.

Knowing that from Professor Trikru’s point of view, it looked like she had gone back on her word, Clarke felt the weight of that on her shoulders. She didn’t want her to think that, not one bit.

She needed to fix it.

Rooting around in her bag, Clarke pulled out her phone, and made a snap decision.

“Hey, Monty? I need one more favour,” she said, going all in.

*0*0*

Clarke knew this was downright one of the most stupidest things she’d even done, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing it.

She had to. There was a drive in her that said this was the right thing to do, even though it was risky as fuck, and most likely going to end with her being yelled at by multiple people. But, it’s not like that ever stopped her before.

Knocking on the door in front of her, she squared her shoulders, stood up tall, and waited.

It was only a few seconds later she heard the jingle of keys, the twisting of locks, and the door swinging open to reveal one very pissed off looking professor.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Anya barked, and yeah, there was the professor she knew and missed.

*0*0*

 

 


	4. First Name Basis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya opens the door to Clarke Griffin, and doesn't understand what the hell is going on.

*0*0*

Sitting alone in her apartment, brooding over beer and Netflix, probably wasn’t the best way to handle getting suspended. But Anya was still licking her wounds.

She was angry, and bitter, and all she could think about was Clarke fucking Giffin stabbing her in the back like this.

She needed to move on from it. She needed to forget about it. She needed to plan ahead, after the suspension.

That was easier said than done, though. And the beer probably wasn’t helping matters. Plus, at this rate, she’d need to go to the gym, and she couldn’t be fucked doing that.

Instead, Anya had plans to finish the beer in the fridge, eat the pizza that was soon to be delivered, and fall asleep on the couch to some crappy movie.

It sounded like a good plan to her.

Lexa would probably kick her ass, but she was too busy doing her job to find time to come over. And no, Anya wasn’t bitter about that, because at least she knew her slacking students wouldn’t get off easy in her absence. Lexa was just doing what was required of her, and when the whole mess was sorted out, when she finally got her job back, if she got her job back, Anya could return knowing the time hadn’t been wasted.

Hearing a knock at the door, Anya got up with a groan, grabbing her keys to unlock the door, and expected to see the pizza delivery guy. The main door lock was bust, so it was easy to get in, except instead of seeing the pizza delivery guy, Anya saw the last person she expected to see.

Clarke fucking Griffin. Standing in front of her. At her apartment. What the hell was going on?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Anya barked, and she must have looked pissed, cause Clarke took a step back.

“I needed to talk to you,” Clarke explained, running a hand through her hair, about to step forward again, as if she had the right to.

“Are you trying to get me fired?” she ground out, seething.

She was seeing red, and she needed to control herself. Tackling a student would get her fired. Tackling a student she was apparently fucking would get her fired and probably arrested.

“No, look, can I please just-” The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and then the sight of the pizza delivery guy cut Clarke off. He glanced between the two women, and then at Anya’s door.

“Eh...pizza?” he asked, and Anya nodded, stepping inside her place to grab the money off the side table. She paid him, accepted her pizza, and then made to go back inside, leaving Clarke put.

“Can we please just talk?” she asked, before Anya shut the door, and with one look at her, Anya knew she was most likely making a huge mistake, but did it anyway.

“Close the door behind you,” she muttered, heading through her place to the kitchen.

Clarke looked a little surprised, as if she was expecting the door to be slammed in her face, but did as Anya requested, closing the door, and coming inside.

Anya watched as Clarke looked around, trying not to be nosey, but curious all the same. The empty beer bottles on the coffee table, the mess of plates in the kitchen sink, and the stacks of papers abandoned on her desk, didn’t exactly present the intimidating image she wanted to project.

The place actually made it obvious she had been wallowing in self-pity, and that was down right depressing.

Trying not to let that thought get to her, trying not to focus on Clarke seeing her weak like that, Anya left the pizza on the counter, lid shut, keeping the heat in, and turned to her former student.

“You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Clarke squirmed a little under her gaze, but then refocused, standing tall, and God, it was sad Anya had missed that fighting spark Miss Griffin always had.

“Professor Trikru, I am-” Clarke began, and already, she needed to be cut off.

“Anya,” she said, low, firm, and getting a frown in response.

“What?”

“I’m not your professor anymore,” Anya began.“I’m not anyone’s professor.”

Clarke paused, taking a moment for those words to sink in, before shaking her head, going back to where she was before she was interrupted.

“I will do what I can to get you reinstated, Professor,” she stressed.

“Clarke,” Anya warned, not wanting to hear a title she felt like she didn’t deserve at that moment.

She had messed up, big time, and as much as she was angry at Clarke for going to the board, she should have handled the situation differently. She should have been open and honest about what had happened.

As if reading her mind, Clarke cleared her throat and spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell the board, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Anya looked up, trying to see if she was lying or not, and coming up short. “It was Wells? Wells Jaha.”

“Thelonious’ son?”

“Yeah. He’s a friend...he was a friend of mine. He found out, overheard some things.” So it wasn’t her?

“You didn’t…?” Anya let the sentence hang, wondering if it was too good to be true.

If Clarke hadn’t gone to the board, then surely the suspension would be lifted soon? Anya would get her job back soon? Right?

“I didn’t tell them. I said I wouldn’t, so I didn’t,” Clarke confirmed, and for the first time in weeks, the weight on Anya’s shoulders eased.

“Have they spoken to you yet?” Surely Clarke had cleared everything up with them.

“No, not yet. I’m not sure they even know it’s me the allegation was made about. I mean, my mom would definitely have spoken to me before now if they knew.” Shaking her head, Clarke continued. “My mom would have marched me back to her house and grounded me for taking such an inappropriate photo, so no, they don’t know it’s me.” That actually made things easier, in Anya’s eyes. “So what do we do now?”

“We wait it out.” Pure and simple.

“Have they spoken to you?” Clarke asked, although she was sure she already knew the answer.

“No. I think they’re saving me for when they can put the final nail in my coffin.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I did. As your professor, I should have reported the photo-”

“It was an accident-”

“It doesn’t matter, I knew better than to ignore it, delete it, I should have-”

“This isn’t on you, this is on me. My photo, my fault. I can’t let you go down for this-”

“You don’t have any say in this, Clarke.” And that was the truth of the matter.

Silence rang through the apartment, with reality hitting home. Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear, fidgeting, while Anya stood motionless, having already accepted how it might play out.

“I’m sorry, Anya. I never…” Clarke didn’t finish what she was saying, there was no need. Anya already knew she was sorry, and she had the right to reject it, without excuses and reasons, because Anya had been hurt, and had the right to be. Clearing Clarke’s conscience wasn’t her job.

“I should go,” Clarke murmured, wiping her hands down on her jeans, heading for the door.

“Clarke,” Anya called, just as she was about to open the door and leave.

Looking round, Clarke waited, wondering what it was Anya needed.

“Don’t tell anyone you came to see me.”

“I won’t,” she replied, knowing that some secrets were a must, and this was one of them. Raven and Octavia would understand, if they ever were to be told, but that had to be years from now, when Anya’s career couldn’t be damaged.

Watching the door shut, Anya let out a sigh.

Her pizza had cooled, but was still edible, so she grabbed the box, a few bottles of beer, and went back into the living room.

It still felt a little surreal that Clarke Griffin had showed up at her door, apologising and sprouting details Anya most likely wasn’t meant to know. She had come to tell her she hadn’t lied, she hadn’t betrayed her, but why? Why did it matter to her?

And that’s when Anya needed to shut her brain up. Her student, even if she was a former one thanks to this suspension, shouldn’t be occupying her thoughts.

*0*0*

“Are you sure you want to do this alone? I can come in and-” Lexa said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t sully your name in this,” Anya replied, watching as the board members filed into the room, Jaha at the door, welcoming them like this was a celebration, rather than her lynching.

Lexa and her were standing further down the hall, watching, waiting, until it was time for Anya to go in.

“We’re friends, that’s what we do,”

“Not when it’ll cost you your career.”

“Explain what happened, explain my involvement.”

“I’m not mentioning you, and so help me, Lexa, if you say you were involved-”

“Professor Trikru, are you ready?” Jaha called, catching their attention, but not their gaze.

Anya held Lexa’s, waiting for a sign that she fully understood the severity of this. One nod, and then Anya turned on her heel, not having to worry about Lexa’s involvement, and walked towards the room.

Inside, she was seated across from the other members, her eyes avoiding the stare of Dr. Abigail Griffin, and facing Jaha. The seriousness and formality of the situation was upon them, and with the clearing of throats and sitting straight up, everyone was ready.

This was the first, of what Anya suspected would be many, interviews with herself, to go over the details of the suspension. Her entire future hung on these meetings, her career, her future job prospects, her financial credibility, her home, all of it rode on how these meetings went.

“From the paperwork you received, you have been suspended pending an investigation of impropriety with a student of yours, this meeting is to go over what has happened so we may get to the bottom of this. Do you have any questions?” Jaha asked.

Anya had plenty, but now was not the time.

“No, sir.”

“Alright then,” Jaha smiled, straightening his papers before moving to the next point. “The allegation states that you received an inappropriate photo from a student, attached to a piece of work you were grading, and instead of reporting this, you opted to deal with it yourself. There were no details on whether this was the first time this has happened, or whether a relationship between yourself and the aforementioned student has occured, so we will look to get the answers to that, today.”

Their details were wrong, which worked in Anya’s favour. She wasn’t grading the self-assessment her students had submitted, she was using them to improve her teaching style. So that was incorrect, and while it might seem like a minor detail, it meant a lot. Anya hadn’t used her position of power to benefit one student in exchange for nudes or sex.

“I will remind you, that although you’re not under any sort of oath, we do ask that you be as truthful as possible with us, so we can assess the situation properly.” Anya knew Jaha wasn’t one for being lenient on people. Hell, he’d disciplined his own son, through the board, just because Wells was at some ruckus of a campus party. There was no way her honesty was going to get her out of this unscathed.

But, better to make it look like she was willing to cooperate.

“I understand.”

“Great, let’s continue,” Jaha smiled, turning to the rest of the board so they could start asking their questions.

It was going to be a long day.

*0*0*

After answering question after question, fielding their comments left, right, and centre, the meeting was dismissed, and Anya made her escape off campus.

She was still suspended, as the investigation continued, but her part was done for now.

Once home, she checked her phone, two missed calls from Lexa, which she’d get to later, and a few emails she could ignore. She wasn’t abandoning her responsibilities, just slacking a little, though she’d get on top of it again, if she ever got her job back.

In the meantime, she had the night ahead of her, and a headache to ease. Beer seemed like the best bet to cure that, and shrugging out her jacket, knowing she’d need to change sooner or later.

The skirt and white shirt mix was a good, professional outfit for the board meeting, but not for lounging around, trying not to throw in the towel.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t. Despite what the board said, despite their questions and their looks, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

That’s all she had to keep telling herself.

The beer would help, and getting out the formal clothes and pretending that today hadn’t happened would help, too.

Getting up, beginning to unbutton her shirt, Anya made a beeline for the fridge, only to stop short at the sound of knocking on her door.

Rolling her eyes, because Lexa never gave up, she didn’t think twice before opening the door, ready to let her know she didn’t need to come over, that today wasn’t that big a deal.

Except it wasn’t Lexa.

“Clarke,” Anya said, surprised. “What…?”

“I heard there was a meeting on today regarding your suspension. Do you know anything new?” she said, still catching her breath, her hair windswept, like she’d rushed over as soon as she found out.

Not wanting to have the conversation in the hallway of her building, Anya stepped back.

“You should come inside.”

“That bad?” Clarke joked, and then winced, thinking that was a bad move.

She followed Anya inside, shutting the door behind her, and moved into the living room. Anya indicated for her to have a seat, which she did, while she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of clothes rustling following.

“Depends who you’re asking for,” Anya called through, sliding off the skirt, the tights, taking off the shirt, and finding the comfiest clothes to hand.

“Oh?” Clarke called back, sounding a little anxious, thinking about all the possibilities.

“They don’t know it was you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Anya said, coming back into the room, and taking a seat in the armchair across from Clarke.

It felt very domestic seeing her there, sitting on her couch like this was the norm.

“They didn’t ask?”

“They did.” Of course they had. They’d asked her again, and again, and again, growing more impatient when she refused to comment.

“You didn’t tell them,” Clarke murmured, frowning, and Anya fought looking at her as she did so.

She probably should have told them. It would have helped her case greatly. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself doing that.

Once the board had a name, they were going to search their systems and files or drag Clarke in there themselves. And what was to happen when they found the exact photo Clarke sent? Were they all going to look at it? Was Clarke to lose that privacy because of her? No.

No.

So she didn’t say anything, and it made her look guilty as sin, but she was already out of the race for department head, what did it matter?

“Why didnt’ you…?” Clarke asked, and Anya finally looked her way.

“This won’t stay private. Your photo. It won’t stay private.”

Her reason hung in the air, with Clarke thinking it over, understanding the fullness of her words, before she laughed, humorlessly.

“To think I was once proud of that photo,” she said, bitterly.

“It’s a good photo,” Anya found herself saying, and then shaking her head. “Don’t let this shame you-”

“I’m not ashamed. I look good. I know I look good,” Clarke replied, confident. “But I didn’t think the damn board would potentially see how good I look naked.”

“They won’t, I won’t say it’s you,” Anya fired right back, wanting to put that issue to rest.

“They’ll fire you.”

“They can’t, not without proof. A withdrawn allegation isn’t proof.” Clarke’s look softened, her lips quirking ever so slightly, her brow furrowing.

“You’re taking a big risk,” she said, and Anya never knew truer words.

She was. That, she couldn’t argue with. She was taking a huge risk.

For some reason, it felt worth it.

“It’s my risk to take.”

Now it was Clarke who couldn’t argue.

Realising they’d come to a natural end, and not wanting to stay longer than she should, Clarke grabbed her bag sitting next to her on the couch and made towards the door.

Unlike last time, where Anya stopped her, she stopped herself, just short of leaving.

“Anya?” Receiving a hum in response, and catching Clarke's gaze, she waited. “If this goes horribly wrong...if this doesn’t work out the way it should, and you’re no longer my professor…”

“Yes?” Anya couldn't work out where Clarke was going with that statement, why she kept pausing, what was to come.

“You should give me a call. The photo was good, but real life is better.” And with that, Clarke made her exit, leaving Anya reeling.

Surely she had misinterpreted that. Surely?

Her mouth dry, a lump in her throat, heat low in her belly, Anya licked her lips and took a shaky breath. Clarke had to be kidding. There was just no way.

No. No, Anya. Forget those words, forget Clarke, and for god’s sake, forget that photo.

What the fuck had just happened?  

*0*0*

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Clarke's offer.

*0*0*

The photo was good, but real life is better.

Clarke couldn’t believe that she had done that. She could not believe those words had come out of her mouth, but they had.

She’d actually said that, aloud.

Perfect fucking timing, Clarke, hit on the professor when she’s being investigated for impropriety with a student. What a smart fucking move that was.

Running away with her tail between her legs, Clarke scrammed out of Anya’s building, picked up the pace to a jog, and made the run back to her place.

“What happened to you?” Octavia asked, stopping what she was doing, seeing Clarke panting against the back of the front door.

The photo was good, but real life is better.

She’d actually said those words. She’d gone and said those exact words. To Anya. To Professor Trikru.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She obviously hadn’t.

But...she had? Because sitting there, in Anya’s apartment, on her couch, had seemed so normal. Anya wasn’t her professor, but simple a woman she found attractive, a woman she wanted, and it had seemed right to let her know just that.

Maybe if there hadn’t been the investigation, the suspension, the fear of Anya getting fired, it would have been acceptable to throw that comment out there.

Oh fuck, what had she done?

“I think I just propositioned Professor Trikru, properly, this time.”

“O-kay,” Octavia hummed, putting down the textbook and notepad she was scribbling away in. “You need to start from the beginning, and we need booze, and Raven! Get in here!” she yelled, stepping forward to take Clarke’s hand, leading her away from the door, to sit on the couch, noting her shock, and her wild, panicked eyes.

She looked like a deer in headlights, ready to flee.

“What are you yelling about?” Raven moaned, padding into the the living room, and then taking the view of Clarke freaking out and Octavia comforting her. “What’s happened?”

Raven expected Clarke to reply, but now she wasn’t saying anything, and she turned to Octavia to see if she could elaborate on what had happened.

“She propositioned Professor Trikru?” It was still a question, but Raven’s eyes bugged and okay, now the mess on the couch made sense.

“Clarke, what...can you tell us what happened?” Octavia asked, drawing her attention, and Clarke came back to the room, to her friends who looked so concerned, and she shook her head, swallowing the mortification of what she’d actually gone and done.

“I...I found out there was a meeting today, the board were meeting to discuss the allegation, and I went to Anya’s apartment-”

“You know where she lives?” Raven questioned, frowning, because how?

“Oh...yeah, I’ve been there before, when I found out about Wells.” Clarke continued, explaining more, missing the shared look between Raven and Octavia. “I just wanted to see what the board had decided, I can’t ruin her career.”

“Yet you propositioned her?”

“Well when you say it like that it doesn’t sound smart!”

“You think?” Raven blurted out, and Octavia shushed her.

“Clarke, please talk us through this, how did you…?” She wasn’t even sure how to say it.

“I was leaving, because the board haven’t made a decision, they don’t even know it’s me that sent her that photo. So I was leaving, and I stopped and said, the photo was good, but real life is better, and that she should call me sometime.”

“You’re shitting me?” Shaking her head, Clarke was met with Raven bursting out into laughter, practically cackling, while Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Clarke, you actually said that?” Her furrowed brow said it all, and at least one of her friends was concerned about her.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,”

“You are a god,” Raven sang, and Octavia looked ready to smack her. “I wish I could be like you. W-W-C-G-D? What would Clarke Griffin do? That’s my new motto. That’s going to get me drunk and laid and probably arrested, but fuck, I love you,” Raven continued to rave, and her support was appreciated, but not at that exact moment.

“What do I do?” Clarke asked, looking to Octavia for some kind of answer.

“Honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

“Wait and see if she calls,” Raven said, grinning, and ugh, no, that was hope Clarke wasn’t going to have.

“Give it time to blow over,” Octavia then said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

Sighing, Clarke knew that was really her only option. She couldn’t go back to Anya’s place, because what more was there to say? You had said all she had to. She’d made her thoughts quite clear.

Was that the taste of regret on her tongue? No. But fuck, she should have thought of the ramifications before opening her mouth.

Now it was imperative the board never found out it was her that sent that photo. Now she had crossed a line. Now she had set off the chain reaction required to get Anya fired.

From now on, what would Clarke Griffin do?

Think before opening her mouth.

*0*0*

After that point in time, Clarke did her best to avoid Anya, which was actually rather easy given  the suspension; she was never on campus.

Professor Woods, on the other hand, was on campus. She was still taking Anya’s classes, grading Clarke’s assignments, and remaining a firm reminder in her life of what she’d done.

Occasionally, it did feel like Professor Woods’ gaze lingered on her in class, as if she knew what had transpired, as if she was aware, and it made Clarke squirm in her seat, uncomfortably.

It made her feel like a bigger idiot than she already was, and she used Octavia as a human shield to slink out of the lecture hall.

Thank fuck Professor Woods had never approached her to talk about it, or to yell at her, because that was one encounter Clarke did not want to deal with.

Clarke also didn’t want to face up to what she would do when faced with Anya again.

Sooner or later, the investigation would end, the suspension would end, and as the board hadn’t holed her up in a room somewhere, they still had no clue what student was ‘allegedly’ involved.

It looked more and more like Wells had made the whole thing up.

That meant Anya was going to return, eventually. Facing her, seeing her again, Clarke wasn’t even sure how to process that thought, let alone the actual situation she’d find herself in.

It would be made even worse if Anya came back as Clarke’s professor again, then proper impropriety had occurred, and once again, Anya hadn’t reported it, leaving her open to disciplinary action.

Until the universe forced Clarke to face that demon, to face Anya, in her haunting beauty, then she was going to go through her days pretending nothing was out the ordinary. Pretending she didn’t wake to the words ‘The photo was good, but real life is better’ and with that warmth deep in her belly, thighs rubbing together, and all the fantasies that went with it. She just needed time to forget, to move on, and to prepare for seeing Anya in person again.

The universe had other ideas, however, and Clarke found herself face to face with Anya far too soon.

She wasn’t prepared. She could still feel the words slipping from her lips and tongue. She could still see Anya frowning, her face straightening, her eyes darkening for that split second, before Clarke made the decision to run away. She was still reliving that mortifying moment, and it was hitting her like flashbacks in the bread aisle of the local supermarket.

It had been Raven’s turn to go food shopping, but she’d been lazy and ditched, and now Clarke was going to kick her ass.

“Clarke,” Anya said, masking her surprise at seeing her, and Clarke tried to smile warmly, less grimacy, back.

“Anya,” she replied, hoping a simple greeting was all that the conversation would suffice.

Then the awkward, heavy, silence hung around them, widening the gap between them, while making them extra aware of the others every move.

They both stood, perusing the food in the aisle in front of them, and it really wasn’t that hard to pick what they were after, but neither made a move, too conscious of the other.

The words last spoken were ringing round their heads, and it may as well have been ringing over the tannoy system.

The photo was good, but real life is better.

Given the last time Clarke properly spoke to Anya, and just how well that had went, she opted to keep her lips firmly shut this time around. It was safer that way, she was sure of it.

Anya, apparently, had different ideas. She clearly didn’t get the memo that Clarke was freaking the fuck out in a calm and composed manner, but she was, and Anya’s comforting voice did nothing to ease that panic.

“Has the board approached you at all? Wells spilled more details?” she asked, and the questions allowed Clarke to focus on them, rather than Anya standing close by, actually speaking to her like nothing had happened.

The photo was good, but real life is better.

“No, thankfully, he’s kept his mouth shut.” Anya looked rather relieved to hear that, and no wonder. “Do you know anymore about the investigation?” Clarke asked, trying not to let the conversation come to an end.

“They want access to my email account.” Now that caught Clarke’s attention, and she shot her a concerned look, knowing where that would lead, but Anya waved her off. “Relax, if you remember, I gave everyone another email account to send it all to, instead of my edu one. There’s a limit as to the file sizes it can receive. That might actually be the saving grace for you.”

If Anya denied them permission, they’d never get in, never have the chance to try and recover that first photo. Never need to question why Clarke sent a second email, days after, with a photo. She could remain out of the investigation.

Looking at Anya again, Clarke wondered how much she was still risking to keep Clarke out of everything, and what that meant for her.

Stepping closer, so there wasn’t five feet of distance between them, Clarke caught Anya’s gaze.

“I just...I wanted to say…” God, she was stumbling over the words, over the look on Anya’s face, and clearing her throat, she tried again. “I just wanted to say thank you, for all that you’re doing. This was my mistake, and you’re paying for it,” Clarke said sincerely, dropping her eyes as she spoke, unable to see the intensity in Anya’s. “Thank you,” she repeated, nodding to herself, knowing it was out there, now, and her gratitude wasn’t unknown.

“We all make mistakes,” Anya replied, softer. “I made mine when I called up Lexa and deleted it, instead of reporting the situation right away.”

It felt like that was Anya’s way of taking some of the blame away, and Clarke wanted to reach out, to provide some physical comfort to what sounded like guilt and regret in her voice. She didn’t, though, and the silence rang on.

“Look, about what I said, last time I saw you,” Clarke began, shaking her head, knowing she needed to bring it up eventually. It was like the elephant in the room. “It was inappropriate, what with you being suspended and me technically still being your student-”

“Do you regret it?” Anya asked, cutting her off, and Clarke wasn’t sure she heard that right.

“What?”

“Do you regret what you said?” Anya repeated.

“No, of course not.” Maybe that was too honest. She was meant to be cutting down on being blunt.

“Then what’s the problem?” Oh. Anya’s confident reply, her gaze taking Clarke’s features in, her presence making Clarke want to step closer, were all doing so much to throw caution to the wind.

“Aside from you getting fired?” Clarke asked, licking her lips, remembering that one, solid, reason.

“I’m not your professor.” Anya said it like it was true, but how wrong she was.

“Because you’re suspended,” Clarke reminded her again.

“Minor detail.” Clarke laughed, unbelieving Anya’s words, and shook her head.

“We’re trying to keep you out of trouble, not land you in more.”

“Then telling me reality is better than the picture was not the way to go about that.”

Back was the spark, the heat low in stomach, the dryness in her throat, and her eyes couldn’t help drop to Anya’s lips, watching as she licked them, a teasing smile ever so softly at the edge.

“At least wait until the investigation is over,” Clarke added, trying hard not to think about all the trouble the two of them could get into.

“And if you’re my student then?” Anya asked, wondering, and Clarke wondered, too.

“Then I hope your memory is good, because it’ll need to do you until the year is out.” Anya smirked, and that made Clarke think her memory happened to be very good.

Another shopper coming into the aisle was enough to put distance between them again, stepping back, eyeing the bread like it was the most riveting thing, and as though they were strangers.

“May we meet again,” Clarke said, giving Anya a parting nod, and walking away. She received a nod in return, and then they separated.

It took Clarke a moment, a few aisles over, to realise that Anya hadn’t been angry, offended, or repulsed by her previous words. She’d seemed interested.

God.

Holy shit.

That was unexpected.

*0*0*

 

 


	6. Weak

*0*0*

The next time there was a knock at Anya’s apartment door, she couldn’t help but expect to see Clarke on the other side. Instead, she was met with Lexa, looking a little tired, holding a box of beer, and another bag no doubt filled with some snacks for them to binge on.

“It’s Friday, I need to get drunk,” Lexa said, and Anya barked out a laugh, letting her in.

“That I can help with.”

Lexa grinned and dropped her things onto the coffee table, while Anya went rooting through her cupboard for a bottle of something stronger, and some glasses. Meanwhile, Lexa had started talking about her classes, Anya’s classes, and all the work she had to do. There was the odd question thrown in there, which Anya shot back a reply to, coming back and getting comfortable on the couch.

“So, tell me about your week?” Lexa asked, finishing an amusing rant on some of the stupid answers she’d received in the recent assignment.

“Clarke Griffin propositioned me, in this very room.” That was like opening Pandora’s box, and Anya wasn’t sure whether she should have confessed to that.

Explaining the whole situation, as well as what happened when buying groceries, took a considerable weight off Anya’s shoulders, but then again, the alcohol probably helped.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” Lexa groaned, slouching into the couch, shooting her best friend a concerned look. “Anya, tell me this is a sick joke. You cannot have had Clarke Griffin in your apartment.”

“No one will find out,” she argued, waving her hand.

“That really worked the last time we said concerning a situation with Clarke Griffin involved, or need I remind you of your current suspension?” Lexa said, and okay, technicalities.

“I will be reinstated before the year is out. They have nothing.” Which was true.

“And what happens when you go back? You can’t go near her.” Yeah, Anya knew that.

“Nothing happens. I’m not an idiot.” She sort of was, but that was neither here nor there.

“Really? Because you just told me Clarke Griffin has been here, sat on this very couch.” Lexa was killing her buzz.

“Guess I shouldn’t tell you she’s been here twice then?”

“Anya!”

“Relax, Lex.”

“I can’t relax when you are throwing your career away for some girl,” she stressed, shaking her head. “I’m sure the sex will be great, but is it going to be worth it when her mother finds out?”

“I know,” She did. She did know. This was nothing new.

But maybe it was the reality check she needed.

“What about you?” Anya asked, looking for a change of subject.

“What about me?” Lexa repeated back, frowning. “I’m not screwing a student.”

“Technically, I haven’t screwed her yet. And you know what I meant, what about the women in your life?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence.” Rolling her eyes, Anya took a swig of her beer and waited. “There’s no women in my life,” Lexa replied, looking away.

“Liar." Anya remembered all the times Lexa spoke about some girl, while drinking, and if she had to listen to all that back then, Lexa could at least be honest now. “You’ve been hung up on someone for well over a month now. What’s happened?”

Lexa began to peel at the beer bottle label, and a solemn look crossed her face.

“They’re unattainable. I’m cutting my losses.” Oh, that wasn't great. But Lexa wouldn't appreciate her words of condolences, so saved them.

“Better luck next time then,” Anya said instead.

“I’ll need it.” With Lexa's dating history, yeah, she probably would.

“Who were they?” Anya asked, curious. It had seemed more than a simple crush of Lexa's, so they must have been someone important.

"I met them at that sports bar, the one near the library? She let me hide in one of the back booths to work, occasionally bringing me booze and keeping me company. It sort of became a weekly thing."

"And she's dating someone?" Knowing Lexa, unattainable didn’t necessarily mean in a relationship.

"She's... She's Kyle Wick's TA,” Lexa confessed, and it took a moment for Anya to process what she’d just said. Kyle Wick. Professor Wick. The slimy douche in Engineering. His TA. His student TA.

“Christ, Lexa, hypocrite much?” Anya shot, shaking her head, and going through all she'd heard about Professor Wick's TA.

“She’s not my student,” Lexa barked back, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know she was a student.”

"She's the undergrad, though, right? The genius." Wick only went after the very best, but they tended to be grad students. This one was not.

"Yeah. That one,” Lexa replied, nodding, looking even more dejected.

"And you know he sleeps with all his TAs."

"I don't need you reminding me of that fact, hence why she is unattainable,” she growled, shooting her a glare, and okay, sensitive subject.

“We’re pathetic,” Anya said, taking another drink, which was followed with Lexa doing the same.

“Yes we are,” she agreed.

God, how the mighty had fallen.

*0*0*

In the following week, Lexa started hinting at there being a flurry of activity in the department, and she suspected it had to do with Anya getting her position back. She was feeding Anya tidbits of information when she could, so when Jaha requested a sit down meeting, Anya wasn’t surprised.

It wasn’t with the full board, for which she was thankful, but just him, in his office, with a fake smile and air of mistrust in the air.

Less than ten minutes later, with not even the briefest of apologies, Anya was reinstated, and could pick her classes backup as soon as she saw fit.

Aside from one withdrawn allegation, there was no proof. No evidence of any impropriety, and nothing in her conduct to suggest she was hiding something.

The investigation was officially over.

It really should have been a moment of celebration, of jubilation and glee, but all Anya could think about was Clarke, her student, Clarke.

Anya was back in a position of power, back grading Clarke’s papers and assignments, back to being Professor Trikru, not Anya.

It was going to change things, and on one hand, Anya was so glad to be keeping her job, one she had worked so hard for, but on the other, she was a little disheartened, pulling back that mask of aloofness she wore, getting ready to put Clarke back in the ‘off limits’ pile.

Really, she should never have left that pile. It was never going to go anywhere, never going to be worth the risk, so what had Anya been thinking?

That was a question for another day.

Anya returned to her office on the Wednesday that week, with handover sheets and list of things Lexa had done for her in her absence. It was very Lexa of her, and Anya was pleased to see nothing had fallen apart without her. The place was still standing, and from the looks of the grade sheet she was holding, her students hadn’t suffered from the switch in Professors.

Good.

However, looking through the sheet, she noticed one name missing.

It seemed like it might have just been an oversight, so Anya logged onto the system, and began to look through her student roster. Again, the name was gone.

One Miss Clarke Griffin had left her class.

What the hell?

What did that even mean?

Was Clarke out of her mind? Did she not realise what this looked like?

Taking deep breaths, Anya sent a text off to Lexa, asking what had happened to Clarke, and then went back to preparing for her classes. Lexa never replied, as expected, so it was going to be up to her to find out on her own.

By chance, after her morning classes, Anya spotted a familiar face.

“Miss Griffin, a word in my office, if you please?” she asked, catching Clarke’s attention, who was with Octavia and another girl.

She didn’t have to come. It was an offer. But as she took that first step towards her, Anya was so relieved this wasn’t going to be a scene. Her friends, also, seemed to be masking their emotions.

No doubt they knew what had transpired, so that invitation for a word possibly looked like an invite for a quickie in her office, but if they thought so, they weren’t letting on.

It didn’t take the two of them long to arrive at Anya’s office, and after she unlocked the door and dropped her things, Clarke shut the door behind them, and took a seat, waiting.

Also sitting down, and letting the silence hang, Anya pulled out the roster of students and pushed it across the desk to Clarke.

“You dropped my class,” she stated, and Clarke sat forward to see the sheet before smiling, like this was nothing. “You cannot just drop the class because of my return,” Anya muttered, feeling angry, because was this not a big ‘x’ marks the spot for the board.

Clarke’s laughter made that anger worse, and Anya dropped back into her seat, needing to calm down.

“It’s cute that you thought I dropped for you, but I didn’t.” Oh. Right. “I haven’t even dropped. I’ve switched classes. My mom got me an internship at a clinic, and your afternoon class clashes with it, so I’ve switched to Professor Woods. She is doing the same curriculum, but with suitable class times for me to manage the clinic work as well,” Clarke explained, looking far too pleased as she did so.

“Congratulations on that placement,” Anya said, feeling a lot like an idiot.

“Thank you, I’m looking forward to it. Switching classes was just a bonus.” That made Anya swallow the lump in her throat, and as she fought to find something to say, Clarke beat her to it. “So was that all, Professor Trikru, or was there more?” Clarke asked, smirking, and now the office door being shut did not seem like a good idea.

“I’m not your professor anymore.” Wrong thing to say, Anya, definitely the wrong thing to say, but jesus, it had Clarke smirking, and maybe saying the wrong thing was exactly the right thing to be doing.

“Lucky me,” Clarke replied, licking her lips as she did so, and Anya found herself letting out a shaky breath. God.

Rising to her feet, Clarke moved closer to the desk, picking up the pen in plain-view, and taking the pad of post-its.

“Given our circumstances have changed, what with Professor Woods now being my direct professor, and you no longer being in charge of my final grade, maybe we can pick up on what I mentioned before.”

Anya felt like someone had upped the temperature in the office, considerably, as she watched Clarke write on the post-it, drop the pen and pad on the desk, that daring smirk on her lips, and flare in her eye.

“Here. If you need me to refresh your memory, let me know,” Clarke said, boldly, sticking the post-it note with her phone number on it to Anya’s desk, smack damn in the centre. She then turned and headed for the door, leaving her ex-professor reeling.

Anya’s eyes were burning into the post-it note, while Clarke’s words played around in her head, again, and again, and again.

It was amazing how that girl could bring her to her knees, mentally, without even realising it, because fuck, Anya felt weak.

Lexa was going to kill her when she found out.

Grabbing her phone, Anya entered Clarke’s number and saved it, thoughts at the back of her mind wondering just how long she could go before using it.

She was so, so weak for Clarke bloody Griffin.

*0*0*

 


	7. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa gets some news, Anya's a great wingman, and Lexa changes her tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm breaking my format, I usually switch between Clarke’s view of things and then Anya’s, but I couldn’t it at this point, because Clarke’s chapter would be redundant, sorry about that. -

 

Clarke’s number haunted Anya; from thinking about it any time she used her phone, to daydreaming about it when marking her students assignments. Even her time sprawled out in front of the tv was invaded by the possibility of just sending an innocent text, of reaching out, and contacting her.

But Anya needed to be stronger than that.

She needed to remember that she had just been cleared of impropriety with a student, so actively engaging in any kind of risky contact with a former student would make her look guilty as sin.

The board could reverse their decision. They could pull Clarke in. They could investigate further, from Clarke’s end, and then where would they be?

So no, Anya had to pretend that she didn’t have Clarke’s number in her phone, and completely forget about the offer to ‘refresh her memory’ cause fuck.

That was some offer.

Was she tempted? Yes.

God yes.

Some days it was easier than others, and some days she was typing out a blank text message, ready to add in Clarke's contact details.

Thankfully, today, she had a good reason not to be thinking about Clarke Griffin.

It had been a while since she’d seen her former student, and that made things a lot easier. Though, not seeing Clarke also made Anya want to reach out and talk to her, to see her, so it was good and bad. Regardless, tonight was about Lexa.

Anya suspected there was a specific reason why they were meeting, and she suspected Lexa’s news was job related. It was bittersweet, so she went with a smile, and tried not to dwell on circumstances out of her control.

Anya met Lexa across town, at that sports bar she liked. Did it have anything to do with the girl behind the bar? Most likely. Was Anya bothered? Not one bit, this was Lexa's night, after all.

The place wasn’t that busy; as it was so close to campus there were a good amount of students, but further in the back of the bar, it was quieter. Lexa was tucked in a booth, drinks already on the table, waiting for her.

“So, are congratulations in order?” Anya asked, after finding out Lexa was doing well and classes were treating her good.

Lexa’s eyes dropped to the table top, heat on her cheeks, and she shrugged, before nodding.

“Indra called me in earlier to talk me through it, and offered me department head.”

“You said yes, right?” Anya asked, close to laughing, because Lexa would be an idiot to turn down the job.

“Eventually, yeah.”

“Congratulations,” Anya said, smiling, raising her glass, while Lexa waved her off.

“It should have been you,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Don’t do that. They chose you for a reason. You single handedly held the department up while I was off, you earned this.” And she had.

Yes, it was unfortunate that Clarke’s nude made it into her life when it did, but Anya couldn’t be mad at Lexa. She had strong leadership qualities, she was someone Anya would follow without a second thought, so answering to her, that was no problem.

“But if you hadn’t been suspended, it would have been you,” Lexa shot back, her voice close to whining, which was new. God, she must have been agonising over it.  

“No, I’m not accepting that. Shut up, and be pleased your hard work has paid off.” It was an order, and one Lexa looked close to accepting.

“Thank you, Anya,” she said, softly.

Taking another drink, they put their empty glasses down and Anya made to head back to the bar. Before she could even slide out the booth, a figure was at the end of their table, tray in hand, ready to take the empties away.

“Can I get you more drinks?” they asked, bright smile, and looking straight at Lexa.

“Yes, please,” Lexa replied, shy like, with that all too familiar grin, and Anya knew she was in deep.

This had to be the girl.

Oddly, she looked somewhat familiar to Anya, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen her.

“Special occasion? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink this much since you started coming here,” Raven said, her name tag giving Anya a name to the mysterious, unattainable, girl Lexa had affections for.

“She just made head of department, youngest one so far,” Anya chipped in, not being a completely useless wingman.

Raven grinned, looking pleased, and she turned to look directly at Lexa again.

“Congratulations, I’ll go get you something special, to suit. I’ll be back soon.” Grabbing the glasses off the table, Raven headed away to get them drinks.

With Raven gone, Anya realised Lexa was staring.

“What?” Anya asked, and Lexa shook her head.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and Anya shrugged, indicating it was nothing.

Lexa had helped her out when she needed it, least she could do was return the favour. Plus, maybe if Lexa actually got with the girl she was so hooked on, she’d stop detailing how great they were to her.

Selfish reasons, really.

Raven did return, with a tray of questionable looking glasses. She slid them both a shot, of something she called ‘Boom’ and then a tall glass of some concoction that was to soothe the burn of the shot. She shot Lexa a wink, telling her they were on the house, and to call her back if she needed anything else.

Whether Raven knew it or not, she probably made Lexa’s night.

Boom certainly burned. Raven wasn’t kidding. Lexa struggled to fight the coughing back, and Anya found her eyes watering. The other drink, though, was so soothing, tasting cool and fresh, and very enjoyable. They both knew that they’d be stumbling back home later, but given the drinks tasted as good as they did, that wasn’t going to be a problem.

As the night carried on, it felt like old times. It took Anya back to the days before Clarke sent her that photo, where Lexa spoke of the girls she was crushing on, and they bitched about their classes.

Things were normal again.

Especially so when Raven rang the bell for last orders, and another tray of Boom and the aftercare drink slid onto the table. They finished off their night feeling happy, laughing and joking as they put on their coats, and slowly moving towards the door.

Just before they left however...

"Thank you, Raven, for the drinks tonight," Lexa said, leaning on the bar, smiling that foolish drunken smile that made her look so young.

"No problem, I'm glad you had a good night celebrating." She smiled in return, coming to stand before Lexa, and then gently lowered her voice somewhat. If Anya hadn't been standing behind Lexa to ensure she didn't drunkenly stumble backwards, she would never have heard.

"If you ever want to celebrate your promotion, a little more privately, give me a call," Raven murmured, biting the cap of a pen, and moving to write it down. Lexa offered up her hand, a dopey smile on her lips, and it had Raven grinning back.

One phone number on her hand later, Anya and Lexa were heading out the door.

“I’m in love with a stranger,” Lexa said, wistfully, and Anya was ready to ditch her drunk ass.

“You can’t do anything low-key, can you?”

“Have you seen her? She’s…” Lexa released a content little sigh, and Anya rolled her eyes.

Drunk Lexa was also Dreamy Lexa.

“Come on, you can sleep on my couch. My place is closer.” That was enough to have Lexa moving her legs in the right direction, leaning against Anya’s body further as she did so. Whatever. Anya could deal.

It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d done this.

Only now, Lexa was technically Anya’s boss. So that was new.

“This isn’t going to be like Costia, right?” Lexa asked, once back at the apartment, shoes off, looking like a kid on her couch, so young and innocent. Anya hated how she could hear the doubt in Lexa’s voice, that slight tremor of fear, of doubt.

“No, Raven’s not going to be like Costia.”

“Right.” Lexa nodded, and continued doing so. “Right.”

“Get some sleep, Lex. You can dream about your unattainable girl.” That earned her a grin, and Anya left a lamp on, before heading back into her own bedroom.

Even though she’d been unsure about whether she’d enjoy herself, she had, and it felt like the first normal night since that damn photo found its way into her inbox.

Amazingly, she’d gone most of the evening not even thinking about Clarke Griffin, or the number in her phone.

Improvement.

Crawling into bed, Anya let the alcohol in her system roll over her, feeling good about herself.

If her phone hadn't been in the other room, she could easily see herself letting the alcohol throw her inhibitions to the wind and reaching out to Clarke.

Thank God for feeling lazy.

*0*0*

The next morning, Anya awoke with a slight headache, and to the sound of Lexa pottering about in her kitchen.

After visiting the bathroom, Anya headed through to see what Lexa was up to. The smell of food hit her first, and her pace increased to see what Lexa was making.

"Keep this up and we should reconsider that rule we made, I could get used to this," Anya muttered, and Lexa laughed, shaking her head, while putting up the bacon on the plates, next to the pancakes and eggs she'd made.

"Figured it's the least I could do."

Together, they moved to the breakfast bar, taking a seat to tuck in. Food was exactly what Anya needed, and glancing at Lexa, she noted she, too, looked like the food would help with the slight hangover.

"Sleep alright?" she asked, wondering if Lexa looked half as bad because of where she slept. It had been a while since Anya had crashed on her own couch.

"Your couch is comfier than I remember," Lexa remarked, chewing some more before talking further. “Thanks for letting me stay here, I think it stopped me doing something stupid like texting Raven.”

"That wouldn’t have been pathetic at all,” Anya laughed, earning a whack to the arm.

“I didn’t do it,” Lexa replied, shaking her head.

“You will contact her, though?”

“Yeah, of course.” Anya paused, watching Lexa carefully. “Eventually.”

“Lex…”

“Do you think she meant it? She wasn’t just being nice?”

“I’m going to smack you in a minute, listen to yourself, and remember her offer, did that sound like she was trying to be nice?”

Lexa thought it over for a moment, before nodding.

“You’re right.”

“As usual.” That earned her a glare, not helping, but she waved Lexa off. “You should call her. Don’t over think it. She’s interested. She’s attainable,” Anya said.

Lexa nodded to herself some more, accepting Anya’s advice, while they continued to eat.

It physically pained Anya to see her like that, so doubtful, so uncertain, and she wished she could go back in time and ensure Lexa never met the number of exes who fucked up her trust in potential partners. As it stood, however, she couldn’t do that, so instead she was going to have to ensure Lexa took the plunge, and hope it didn’t backfire on her.

“So, how’s class without Clarke Griffin?” Lexa asked, leaning back slightly, finishing up her food, and pulling Anya back to the present.

“Quiet,” she remarked, making Lexa laugh. It was the truth, though.

The topic change, from Raven to Clarke, it had Anya wondering. What was Lexa really getting at?

“Have you been in touch with her lately?” And there it was...

“Haven’t spoken to her since she changed to your class.” Giving a moment of pause, Anya let Lexa take that in, before ploughing on with the next reveal. “I have her number in my phone.”

“You what?” It was less of a bark, like the last one, but more of a shocked mutter.

“She gave me her number, said I should contact her.”

“You’ve not, though, right?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re considering it.” Lexa looked Anya over, frowning as she did so. “This isn’t about the sex, right? Cause you can get laid any time. I can give you at least three numbers who will happily-”

“It’s not…” Anya waved her hand, and then shrugged. “I don’t know any more with Clarke.”

And that was the truth. She just didn’t know.

Clarke was…confusing, to say the least.

There was an appeal, an intrigue that probably would be spent once Anya had Clarke on her back, legs wrapped around hers, knuckle deep, but then there was something else. She didn’t know what to call that, she only knew it was there, this further curiosity that had her drawn in.

It wasn’t because Clarke was her former student. Anya wasn’t shy to roleplay, although never truly had been interested in it, so the thought of Clarke being her student didn’t do anything for her. Actually, it turned her off, because her career, her livelihood, hung in the balance.

So that taboo, student and professor, wasn’t even part of her interest in Clarke.

“You should contact her,” Lexa then said, and Anya turned to look at her in surprise.

“What?” Those were the last words she’d thought she’d hear Lexa say concerning Clarke.

“You should get in contact with her, see where it goes.”

“Not that I don’t want to hear that, but why are you encouraging me?” Anya asked, unable to stop herself.

“She might just be a good fuck that you need to get out your system,” Lexa began, getting up, and taking the plates to the sink, “or, this might be something more, something important. Point is, you’re allowed to see her now. Stop torturing yourself.”

“Don’t think I should hold off longer in case the board get wind?” That was the biggest concern Anya had; especially given Clarke’s mom.

“You could, and it would probably be the wiser option, but Clarke could walk into class tomorrow and meet someone new, someone else, and are you not going to regret missing your chance?”

The thought of that...of Clarke moving on, of never getting to see where this could go, that stung, and Anya swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Guess we’re not as pathetic as we used to be,” Anya remarked, nodding softly. Lexa smiled in return, nodding also.

Things were definitely on the up for them.

*0*0*

[Unknown Number]: Still up for refreshing my memory?

[Clarke]: Pictures or in person?

[Anya]: Choice is yours

[Clarke]: Text me when you're free and i'll come over

*0*0*

 

 


	8. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke refreshes Anya’s memory, and then some.

 

*0*0*

_[Unknown Number]: Still up for refreshing my memory?_

_[Clarke]: Pictures or in person?_

_[Anya]: Choice is yours_

_[Clarke]: Text me when you're free and i'll come over_

*0*0*

 

The exchange had been short.

Clarke hadn’t recognised the number on the text when it first came in, but the words told her exactly who it was. She immediately saved the number and added Anya as a contact. It felt a little strange at first, adding her as ‘Anya’, because on some level, she did still feel like ‘Professor’. That needed to stop, however.

Gone were the days of Anya standing at the front of the lecture hall, teaching Clarke, or grading Clarke’s work. Now that was Professor Woods’ job. And to be honest, it was better that way. It put them on better standing.

There was no power discrepancy between them any more. One didn’t hold all the power, all the control. Instead, it was back to being even, or almost even. If anything, Anya had more to lose.

But that thought wasn’t weighing heavy on Clarke’s mind when she read the new text, later that evening.

_[Anya]: I’m free, if the offer still stands_

_[Clarke]: Give me an hour_

An hour wasn’t exactly all the time in the world, but Clarke may have already prepared for such an event that morning, having an extra shower. Thank God she did, in her eyes, because she didn’t want to keep Anya waiting, but if she’d had to shave and primp now, she would need at least two.

Thankfully, with one good hour, she had time to put on a little bit make up, do her hair every so slightly, and find something to wear. She’d been to Anya’s place before, wearing jeans and t-shirt, looking casual, nothing special, but tonight, tonight she wanted Anya to open that door and become speechless.

“Where you off to looking like that?” Raven asked, twenty minutes later, with Clarke’s heels clicking against the floor as she walked, drawing both their attention. Octavia laughed under breath, in awe of the little black dress that fit Clarke so perfectly, and then grinned.

“Who’s getting lucky tonight?” she asked, sharing a look with Raven.

“Anya, if she plays her cards right,” Clarke replied, open and honestly.

“You’re an inspiration,” Raven said, her voice full of pride, and Clarke found herself rolling her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Shut up. Now, serious question, do I look good?” That had her roommates scoffing, as if there could be any other answer than ‘yes’. “No, I need to look drop dead good. We’ve been dancing around this for fucking ages,” Clarke moaned, letting out a sigh. “I want sex, tonight, with her, and I know she wants me, too-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Reality?” Clarke asked, knowing sometimes the fantasy was better than the real thing.

“Listen, Clarke, if you showed up at my door like that-” Raven began, licking her lips.

“We don’t need the end of that sentence, thank you very much, Raven,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a knock-out, Clarke, seriously. So go, knock her out before you waste any more time talking to us, and not spending it with her.”

That was the sort of pep talk she needed, and after grabbing her phone, keys and purse, she bid them both goodbyes, and headed for the door. They knew not to wait up for her.

*0*0*

Knocking on Anya’s door was a little more nerve wracking now than it had been before. Maybe it was the uncertainty of just where this was going to go exactly. And okay, that sounded so first crush, but Clarke knew there would be sex, that was a given, it was after the orgasms, what then? Was Anya going to kick her out? Was she expected to just leave?

Normally, Clarke didn’t wait around to find out, she grabbed her things and left before her partner could say anything. But it felt different with Anya. She wanted to spend time with her, even if that was sound asleep in a bed next to her, and what the hell was happening to her?

There was no time to come up with that answer as Anya’s door opened, revealing the woman herself, looking far too good in a simple shirt and pants. Her hair was down, loose over her shoulders, and her eyes darkening as she looked over Clarke’s appearance.

“Come on in,” Anya said, her voice deeper than Clarke recalled it, and that earned a smirk.

Once inside, there was a normality to them, again. Yes, the tension in the room was palpable; like a static charge, humming in the air, ready to spark. Neither were willing to set it off, just yet.

“Do you want a drink?” Anya asked, shaking a bottle of beer Clarke’s way, and who was she to turn down booze?

“You know I’m not yet 21, right?” she asked, accepting the bottle, and taking a swig. Anya let out a groan and shook her head, dropping onto the couch, and indicating for Clarke to have a seat.

“I didn’t know that, no.”

“Problem?” Anya seemed to think it over, before shaking her head.

“No, not any more.” Taking a drink of her own, Clarke watched Anya, licking her lips as she did so, and yet admiring the level of comfort she felt simply sitting there.

Okay, they both knew why she was there, they were going to fuck, but this, this prelude before the main event was rather...nice, for lack of a better word.

“I was actually surprised to get your text,” Clarke said, filling the silence reigning between them.

“Oh?” Anya murmured, watching her, and there was something so sensual about that gaze.

“Yeah, thought the cons outweighed the pros on this one.”

“Lexa-...Professor Woods, she said something this morning that had me thinking, and…”

“And here I am.” Anya nodded in agreement. “Lexa said something? I got the impression she wasn’t my biggest fan.”

“She thinks I’m an idiot for even thinking about ‘fraternising’ with a student, or rather, with one of my own students, before…” waving her hand, indicating the end of that sentence, Anya sat forward, leaning her elbows on her knees, and it had Clarke almost leaning forward, too, opposite her.

“What did she say?” she asked, her throat now dry.

“If you moved on, how would I feel.”

“And?” How would Anya feel, that was a good question, one Clarke wanted the answer to, too.

“And here you are.” Right, of course.

“Here I am,” she repeated, taking another swig of her beer, before placing it on the coaster on the coffee table, and standing.

Anya stood, too. Beer now down, and moved round the furniture until she was standing at Clarke’s side.

“Why did you come, Clarke?” Anya asked, so close, her body heat warming her.

“Did you not want me to?”

“I think we both know I want you.” Those words, slightly altered but still fitting, lit the fire deep in her belly, and she wanted to step that little bit closer, to finally touch. But not yet.

“Why did you come?” Anya repeated.

“I think we both know why I came,” Clarke parroted back, seeing the spark of amused irritation in Anya’s eyes, causing her to smirk.

“Yeah, we do,” Anya finished, dropping her head slightly, until she was looking down Clarke’s body, her breath tickling the top of Clarke’s arm, making her bite her lip.

Eyes up, catching Anya’s gaze, and she gently turned her body, moving into Anya’s space, and reaching up. God, for so long she had wondered what it would be like to touch, feel, and kiss those lips, and now, Clarke was millimeters away, breathing in the air Anya was expelling, basking in her body so close, and buzzing from the desire looking back at her.

“May I..may I kiss you?” Anya uttered, and it was the first sign of nerves Clarke had seen.  

“You have to ask?”

“Once we take that step, there’s no going back.” Oh, she knew that.

“I think we reached that point the second you saw me naked,” Clarke teased, and Anya groaned once more, shaking her head slowly.  

“I didn’t look, not properly, I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, now you can.” Licking her lips, swallowing away the dryness of her throat, Clarke finished, effectively sealing the deal. “You can look, and you can touch. So to answer your previous question, yes, you may kiss me.”

Anya dropped her head, a little lower, almost nuzzling into Clarke’s embrace, before turning her head, just slightly. She caught Clarke’s eye, seeing a small smile on her lips, and then closed the distance, her lips softly brushing against Clarke’s, once, twice, and then sinking into the kiss.

She tasted of the beer, of that hint of lime; of lust and want; of lingering glances and stolen breaths; of more than Anya could ever imagine. Clarke, too.

She was chasing Anya’s lips for the next kiss, reaching up to cup her face, run her hand through Anya’s hair, and pull her in closer. There was no distance between their bodies, but Clarke thought it was still too much, and Anya’s hands running down her body, over her ribs and to her hips, squeezing gently, clearly thought so, too.

All the while, her lips burned and bruised, desperate for more, until they broke apart, panting into the other’s mouth, seeking to remain as close as possible.

Anya’s eyes were darker than before, and Clarke watched as her gaze travelled to where her hands sat, lowering gently on her hips, down her thighs, until Clarke’s breath was catching.

“Take it off,” Anya murmured, pleaded, her lips grazing down Clarke’s neck as she spoke, until her eyes were focused on where her fingers were, tucked under the fabric of the dress she was wearing. Clarke fought a groan as Anya tugged, firmly, to let her know for sure just what she meant, and she found herself nodding in agreement. The dress needed to go.

Despite having all the confidence in the world when she walked in the apartment, Clarke’s hands were shaking with anticipation as she undid the zip at the side of the dress, then shrugging her shoulders out the straps, pulling them off her shoulders, and pushing the dress down her body until it hit the floor.

Anya stepped back, one step only, looking at the dress on the floor, and Clarke couldn’t help but bite her lip, watching Anya watch her. Anya’s gaze ran up her calves, over her knees, up her thighs, focusing on the lace of her underwear at the juncture of her thighs, before moving onwards and upwards. She swallowed, licking her lips, and then stepped closer again, her hands reaching out to touch. And yes please, that’s exactly what Clarke needed.

Clarke’s skin trembled under Anya’s touch, not from nerves, or uncertainty, but from longing. Her fingers were soft, gently tracing around Clarke’s hip bone, and she could feel the touch low in her belly, burning hot and heavy, in need for more. When her fingers stopped at the top of Clarke’s lace underwear, she elicited a sharp intake of breath, dropping her head into Anya’s neck, unable to take the slow torture, and bucking her hips for something, anything.

“You should take your clothes off,” Clarke finally said, trying to even the playing field, wanting to see what Anya had beneath those clothes. She’d thought about it, quite a lot, actually, back when she was pissed at having a professor who didn’t like her, and pissed at herself for finding that professor stunningly attractive. But that was then, and this was now; now she could see for herself, and now she could touch.

Anya’s grin was lazy, but she set about undoing the buttons on her shirt, while Clarke reached out to undo the belt on her pants. A few kisses of encouragement, of want, later, the pants were being kicked off Anya’s long, lean, legs and across the floor. They caught on the coffee table, in a heap, and were then joined by Anya’s shirt landing next to them. Abandoned and long forgotten.

Now it was Clarke’s turn to be speechless; from the expanse of skin on show, the toned body before her, and how delectable Anya looked in nothing but underwear. Feeling the dryness in her throat, Clarke kept her eyes fixed, visually caressing every inch on show, as she reached out to grab the beer on the table.

Her lips wrapped around the top, and she took a steady drink, as Anya stepped back in, her skin hot against Clarke’s, and that required some self control not to moan. Anya was smiling as she took the bottle from Clarke, having a drink of her own, before offering it back. A shake of her head, because they were done drinking, there were more important things to be doing, Clarke watched Anya put it back down, and then lean in.

Her lips were as soft as before, the taste of beer fresher, but then that overriding taste of Anya coming in, encouraging Clarke to run her tongue over Anya’s bottom lip, opening up for more. Her tongue was met by Anya’s, almost hesitate, but the heavy panting told her it wasn’t from nerves, but want.

“Wait,” Clarke said, pulling back a second, and Anya looked to come to out of her lust haze.

“Are you okay? If you want to stop-” And then it was Anya who stopped, just as Clarke’s bra hit the floor, her pert breasts looking as enticing as they had in that photo.

“I came here to refresh your memory,” Clarke added, running her hands down her own waist, and then stopping at her hips. “Well, this is what I was wearing in my nude.”

No it wasn’t.

“My memory is better than that,” Anya whispered, her voice broken and gone, eyes unable to shift focus from Clarke’s.

Her response earned a cheeky grin from Clarke, and then she slipped her thumbs under the top of her underwear. Sliding it down her legs as gracefully as she could, Clarke stood back up, feeling unabashed by her nudity in front of Anya. And no wonder, because she looked to be mesmerised.

“God, Clarke,” she groaned, stepping forward, hands on Clarke’s hips, kissing her again.

It was enough of a kiss for Clarke to unhook Anya’s bra, and help her push it off. Another garment on the floor, and one left, the two of them manoeuvred round the furniture, making their way into the bedroom, lips on lips, and hands caressing bare skin.

The want had been rising since Anya opened the door, and now it was spilling over, in the fastened movements, the dirtier kisses, tongue on tongue, nails down Anya’s back, making her hiss, and bite at Clarke’s bottom lip.

Seeing the dominant side to Anya was completely unsurprising, but Clarke had imagined this many ways, and nearly all of those scenarios, she was on top. So Anya needed to take a damn seat.

Gently pushing her shoulder, but with enough force for Anya to sit back on the end of the bed, Clarke wasted no time moving to sit astride her waist, dropping her body onto Anya’s thighs, and moaning at the friction that created.

Anya clearly enjoyed the sensation of Clarke rubbing against her, her wetness spreading onto her thighs, as she let out a deep moan, and sunk her fingers into Clarke’s hair, pulling her back in for a kiss. It was just what Clarke wanted, the friction, the taste of Anya on her tongue, and that slight push back for control. Anya could dream, however.

Entwining her fingers into Anya’s, Clarke pushed again, until Anya was flat on her back, Clarke leaning over her, looking up, in awe.

“I want to ride your fingers,” she confessed, and Anya’s eyes closed with a heavy breath, before opening, darker, licking her lips, and nodding.

Sitting back up, this time on her knees, still over Anya, Clarke watched as she slid up until she was at the headboard, head on the pillows, and nodded for Clarke to come closer again. The pulsating between her thighs was getting painful, unbearable, and using her own hand, Clarke reached up to squeeze at her breasts, wanting a little more stimulation than she was getting.

That spurred Anya on, who set her mouth on Clarke’s collarbone and then down, taking Clarke’s nipple into her mouth, before kissing her way to the other, running her tongue over it, as her hand lowered Clarke back onto her lap.

If over stimulation was ever an issue, it was going to happen then, because Anya’s mouth was driving her wild, while her hands; well, one was on her hip, caressing it, moving it into a grinding motion, while the other, the other was sliding up the inside of her thighs.  

Anya’s breathing cracked slightly as her fingers met wetness, soft skin, and a sudden buck from Clarke’s hips.

“Please,” she whined, wrapping her arms around Anya’s neck, into her hair, kissing her hard and dirty, encouraging her to fuck her already.

“Before the night is over, I want you coming on my tongue,” Anya said, feeling Clarke’s lips on her neck, as she could smell the scent of sex in the air. It was hers, it was Clarke’s, it was clouding her mind as she ran two fingers through Clarke’s pulsing body, coating her fingers, and then using her palm to press, only a little, on Clarke’s clit.

The moan that followed was guttural, and Anya was desperate to hear that again.

There was no need to worry about preparing Clarke, being anxious about hurting her, or stretching her, because she was so worked up, Anya’s two fingers slid right in, straight to the bottom knuckle, and Clarke was quick to thrust her hips in time with it, moaning as she did so.

That was a sight to behold, and with two fingers deep, there was no stopping Clarke from taking what Anya was giving, and riding her fingers, hard. Her movements were determined and yet sloppy, the need so strong yet overwhelming, and she was gasping for breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep the pace, but desperate to.

Anya found Clarke using her hands to push her back, so she was lying flat again, and then she truly was getting a once in a lifetime sight. Clarke was shameless in her desire, and it was the hottest thing Anya had ever seen. Her own hips ground up, trying to match Clarke’s rhythm, while her fingers curled and fucked her just as much.

Although there was no direct stimulation, she did have her underwear still on, the weight of Clarke thrusting down onto her well placed hand, right over her own groin, meant her orgasm was rising as fast as Clarke’s.

Watching, and fucking her with her fingers, did have it’s advantages, but God, Anya wanted to taste Clarke’s lips again, feel her tongue on her own, and there was only one way to do that. She tried not to break rhythm as she sat up, their breasts meeting in the middle, nipples teasing skin, and caught Clarke’s lips in her own. The angle was different, she could curl her fingers better, and that had Clarke panting directly into her mouth.

It was addicting.

Then Clarke began to pulse from the inside out, her back arching, pushing her body closer to Anya’s, who didn’t waste the opportunity to latch her lips onto Clarke’s neck, as she tightened around her fingers.

Clarke came with Anya’s name falling from her lips, moaning and panting, arching into it, thrusting with abandonment, and losing herself in the sensation of the woman beneath her. She even missed seeing Anya come, following on behind her with a few hard thrusts; but she felt the sudden, sharp, pain of Anya sucking on the base of her neck, tugging her closer.

They were left spent, atop Anya’s covers, sweat on their skin, sex in the air, and muscles already aching from it all.

Once Clarke caught her breath back, she dropped her head into Anya’s neck, a smile on her lips.

“I’m going to go get us some more beer, and by the time I get back, I expect your underwear to be off,” she said, leaning back to look at Anya as she did so. There were absolutely no complaints falling from her lips, and that earned her a solid kiss.

Anya watched Clarke disentangled their bodies, letting out a satisfied moan as her fingers slipped loose, and then as she climbed off the bed. She dropped back again onto the bed, feeling sated and sweaty, but with a slight thrum between her thighs, and she knew the night was nowhere near over.

Clarke, meanwhile, padded through Anya’s with complete confidence. The only downside to her nudity, getting the beers out the fridge and her skin rising to goosebumps, but there was a perfectly warm body waiting for her in bed, so really, not that much of a downside.

And that warm body, well, let’s just say reality was so much better than fantasy.

*0*0*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading, and for all your support - I cannot thank you enough. It really makes a big difference when writing this story. On another note, I'm on tumblr; [comfortablyobsessed](http://comfortablyobsessed.tumblr.com/) ; if you have any clarke/anya prompts, please feel free to share, I'd love to write some more for these in-between chapters!


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